Elysian
by R.A. Bourbon
Summary: She had eyes like the sea, endless and deep. He was a fierce wolf, full of rage and anger. Only she could tame him. Featuring Robb Stark, King in the North


_"_ _You hunted me down_

 _Like a wolf, a predator_

 _I felt like a deer in the lights."_

Robb Stark had a scowl like his father's. The familiar expression had become etched onto his face as of late, and the look concerned his fretful mother. Catelyn Stark hated seeing her oldest son containing his emotions. She could almost see him choking on them, but Robb would be the last one to voice his concerns.

 _He was a lone wolf, her son._

Robb was quiet, and watchful, and smart. Like his father before him he was destined to be a great Lord. It made Catelyn's heart swell with pride to watch her son direct the mass army at his command. It almost seemed effortless the way he led the others around him. Wayward Northern men much like himself. A group of cruel, and cold, men with skin as thick as the furs they wore over boiled leather and metal plates.

Catelyn rode beside her son aback a leggy chestnut whom reminded her of Sansa. The pretty mare was all legs, and rarely offered any resistance to her poor rider. Catelyn felt horribly with every jerky pull of the reins for she had never been particularly good on horseback. She sat straight as an arrow in the saddle, though, showing her ladylike posture with Robb riding at her side.

"I forget how much you resemble your father until I see that scowl upon your face." She muttered to the auburn haired boy on her left who sighed in annoyance, "If you were dubbed King overnight you'd be scowling as well, mother."

It is something neither Stark would grow accustom to, it seemed. It concerned her further when the men of the Northern territory suddenly declared her son as King of the North. After losing Ned, the last thing she needed was the loss of Robb to this war.

"We are almost to The Twins." Catelyn voiced aloud as she eyed the river bank with disdain. The long trek along the river back to the keep of Walder Frey had been filled with much silence and tension. She was sick daily at the thought of marrying her son into the Frey family, "Robb, I am sorry."

"Do not be. It is my duty. I gave my word."

Robb put an end to the conversation by riding forward toward Dacey Mormont. Maege's daughter towered over Catelyn, and even Robb, in her saddle. The girl was a warrior through and through just like her mother. The horse she was riding would have been fit to pull a cart, but Catelyn supposed a person of such grand stature required a strong mount. She wondered if Arya would grow up to be like Dacey Mormont if she were alive. Albeit smaller in stature, Arya had the heart of a warrior. Catelyn smiled sadly at the thought of her youngest daughter wielding a sword. If Arya was alive she would let her.

"There she is." Dacey voiced loudly as the twin keeps came into view. Identical in look, the two keeps straddled the imposing river between them. The bridge between was crafted of sturdy stone and guarded day and night by Frey men. They made a poor guard, for most Frey men were small in stature, and lacked the skill to be a good swordsman. It often surprised Catelyn how long Walder Frey had been able to control his lands and keep the bridge his own. He made plenty in gold selling rights to use the long bridge to anyone holding a hefty coin purse. Catelyn did not trust Walder Frey, but this marriage agreement between them was something she knew better than to back out of. He was indeed not a man to cross.

The South keep guards hollered the traveling army through. Catelyn nervously guided her mount to follow Robb, closing her eyes a majority of the trek cross churning waters. Once on solid ground she dismounted on shaky legs. She patted the chestnut mare and gave her silent thanks for the safe journey she had given the nervous older woman. Robb had already started for the second keep where Lord Walder would be waiting for them. As always the older man was seated in his chair. She often forgot how old Lord Walder was until seeing him in person. The Lord of the Crossing had just celebrated his ninetieth name day, and he looked every bit his age. Sagging, sallow skin covered his old bones. His hands shook on their own accord. The man smelt like rotten fish and moldy cheese as he rarely bathed. Catelyn gagged on his stench the closer the party crept to his prison of a chair. Catelyn swore the man was too frail to ever leave it.

"Lord Walder." Robb greeted with a clenched jaw. He nodded at the elder man before him, but he would not bow or kneel. He was the king, not Walder Frey. Squinted eyes met Robb's as Lord Frey scowled his way, "Back so soon Stark?"

"I am here to wed one of your lovely daughters, "Robb started. He looked around the room but saw no maiden. He was surrounded but by men, "as agreed upon."

Lord Walder made a scoffing noise in the back of his throat, "Lovely, huh? That's a stretch, boy. I'm glad you take your word seriously. So few do these days. Where is the damn bread and salt, bastard?" He croaked to his closest son.

The hook nosed boy squeaked like a mouse and meekly made his way around the small group with a basket of bread and a wooden pinch bowl of coarse salt. Robb dipped the black bread into the bowl deeply and crunched down on the sweet bread coated in granules of salt. They exploded harshly on his tongue, but he chewed nonetheless and waited for Lord Frey to do the same.

"Down to business." Frey glanced around the room, "It seems like my beautiful daughters," he paused once more to chuckle under his breath as though he found the thought of having beautiful daughters amusing, "have gone to bed for the night. We shall have an engagement party on the morrow. Come nightfall you can marry whichever you choose."

"Thank you, my Lord. My men will camp tonight outside your hold. We are thankful for the ale and bread."

With that the group left the keep. Robb's hands were fisted at his sides, and a look down revealed white knuckles. He sighed and shook his head. He needed to run with Grey Wind. He needed to punch something, but mostly he needed to be far away from Walder Frey.

"Fetch a fresh horse. The fastest you've got." He called to his squire. The Frey boy nodded and left to do as his King wished. Robb looked down to Grey Wind by his side and stuck a hand deep in his soft fur. The direwolf looked up at his master almost knowingly.

"I know, boy, I know."

The squire returned with his mount and Robb hesitated not. He reached for the reins, climbed the beast's back, and took off at a sprint towards the woods with Grey Wind flanking him. The duo raced the river, wanting nothing but space between them and the people behind. Robb had slowed to a walk to give his winded mount a much needed break from the previously fast pace. He clapped his palm to the bay gelding's neck and looked for Grey Wind whom had disappeared into the tree line after Gods knows what other creature. Robb had learned long ago to let the beast do as he pleased, and he only grimaced occasionally when he watched the giant wolf devour his kills, skin and all.

The King in the North sighed as he dismounted. He tugged at the reins of the warhorse and led them alongside the river bank slinging stones into the muddy waters below them. The tree line grew closer to the bank the farther the pair went. The keep was far behind them now, and all was silent. That is until he heard singing coming from ahead around a bend in the overgrown dirt path beside a muddy ravine etched deep in the earth. Water pooled there that moved much slower than the water flowing madly down the river. He glanced down into the ravine and was shocked at what he could see. A barebacked maiden with hair the color of copper was bathing below.

Robb Stark had seen naked girls before, but this was no flat chested girl. She was his age, if not older, and was all woman. Her wet red hair was plastered to her milky white skin as she waded in the shallow depths of the pool below him. He had not meant to linger there long, for he was shamed by his spying on her in a private moment, but the longer his eyes took her in the harder it was to leave. She was a sweet vision in the twilight with ample pert breasts. An angel with a halo of rust colored curls spread out in the water as she attempted to float on her back giving him the view of a lifetime. He could barely breathe as he watched her close her eyes, and a shaky breath left his dry throat as her hand reached down for the red tinged curls between her thighs.

His manhood was throbbing madly in his breeches, and he would have touched himself had the horse by his side not given him away. One moment he was staring at her perky tits topped with perfectly pink nipples, and the next she was staring open-mouthed up at him from the pond below. The horse had snorted in irritation from standing in one spot for so long, but Robb had been too entranced by the bathing girl to notice. She had heard him, though, even from the distance. He could tell she was startled by his appearance on the bank, but she continued nonetheless to stroke between her legs, quirking a brow as he blushed madly.

In a moment of intense shame he mounted the horse and bolted. He bothered not wait for Grey Wind as the gelding picked up speed and raced back for the keep. Robb cursed the horse and kicked his sides in anger. The big bay chuffed in displeasure as the bit tugged the corners of his soft mouth, but he followed orders from his rider regardless, and broke into a faster gallop away from the bathing girl.

Grey Wind startled the gelding as they approached the keep. Robb's mount flung his head in irritation and stomped the earth. Robb cooed to him in a calm, although harsh, voice. The oldest Stark boy patted the bay's lathered neck soaked with sweat. He felt even guiltier as he handed off the reins to a waiting squire. The young boy took off with the heaving horse to cool him down and wrap his legs.

Deep in thought about what he had seen at the river bank he bypassed laughing men, a drunken Greatjon Umber, and several dancing whores by the fire. The encampment where his men had set up their temporary quarters was a daunting sight before him. He spotted his lady mother a few feet ahead accompanied by Dacey. Robb ignored her presence as he bolted for his tent. His accommodations were far from luxurious, but the fur covered down bed was a welcome sight. Grey Wind settled on the damp Earth to lick his muddy paws as his master ran a shaky hand through his coarse hair. His groin was still aching, and he reached for his manhood in his breeches. The length of him was pulsing still, and when he closed his eyes he could see her. He could almost smell her wet skin. With closed eyes Robb Stark did what any other man would do in that situation, and afterwards lay down on his furs where he fell into a sound sleep with dreams of bright copper curls clouding his mind.


End file.
